The Apple Doesn't Fall Far
by Elf Eye
Summary: Part of the Nameless One series, although Anomen is now grown up and acknowledged to be Legolas Thranduilion. A few years before the events of the LOTR, Glorfindel and Anomen travel to the Shire to check on Frodo's welfare.
1. Chapter 1

**From time to time a reader will ask me to do a story about the bond between Legolas and Glorfindel, so here is one that explores it. It is not, however, an elfling story (although in it I refer several times to the story "Dining Out", which is an elfling story). This story also refers to a time when Aragorn and Legolas stayed at the Prancing Pony in Bree, an incident that is described in Chapters 41 and 42 of "Things Fall Apart". Also, the story Glorfindel tells about leprechauns is based on the one that he told in Chapter 2 of "To the West".**

**Finally, in a couple of paragraphs I quote from Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. Kudos to the reader who can locate the quotations and the chapter that is the source.**

**Beta reader: None. There will only be two chapters, and I only trouble Dragonfly to review whichever story is my long-term one (currently Parallel Quest).**

"I am glad you trust me now, Legolas."

Legolas looked up from his plate, surprised.

"You look puzzled," said Glorfindel.

"Yes, for we were talking of nothing in particular, and suddenly you say that you are glad I trust you. What made you think of that?"

Glorfindel gestured around their campsite. "I was thinking of the first time we made camp together. Do you remember the occasion?"

Legolas laughed. "Yes! I was but newly arrived at Rivendell. Although Elrond pretended otherwise, he already knew that the elfling Mithrandir had entrusted to his care was a runaway from Greenwood. When a messenger arrived from that place, Elrond ordered you to take me into the woods so that I might not be discovered."

"Yes, but _you_ thought I was a character in one of those books you were always reading—that I was taking you into the woods to do away with you! What is it that you said? Ah, yes, that if I meant to cut out your heart, would I please slay you first."

"Well, in the fairytales of Men, it seemed that the evil monarch always commanded that the child's heart be brought back as proof that the deed had been done. I thought it should be dreadful if you commenced the operation whilst I was still conscious!"

Glorfindel laughed and shook his head. "I am certainly glad that you have learned to tell the difference between fact and fiction."

Legolas joined in the laughter. "Yes," he agreed. "In those days I was enthralled by the stories of Men, with all their quaint notions—unicorns, basilisks, phoenixes, centaurs, and suchlike. Now I realize that the real world is every bit as enthralling. Its inhabitants may seem humdrum and ordinary because they are so familiar to us, but, really, Trolls, Dwarves, and Goblins are such droll creatures."

"When they are not killing us," Glorfindel said dryly.

"Oh, putting that aside, their customs are peculiar and therefore fascinating. Indeed, even the most commonplace of creatures may present itself in the most remarkable manner. Think you, Glorfindel: Is it not interesting to contemplate an entangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect upon these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent on each other in so complex a manner? Look about you, Glorfindel! Are there not endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful?"

Glorfindel did look about, and all at once he saw Arda anew, in such a fashion as he had not seen it for millennia. It was possible, he suddenly understood, for an Elf to become jaded. He nodded. "You are right, Legolas. There is grandeur in this view of life. I have lived in Middle-earth for many ages, and my familiarity with the place has caused me to no longer notice the marvels it contains. Thank you for the gift of new eyes."

Legolas smiled with delight. It was true that he no longer feared Glorfindel, but he had not lost his awe of the twice-born balrog slayer, and a compliment from the elf-lord meant much to the younger Elf.

Glorfindel laughed gently at the expression upon his young friend's face. "Legolas, Elrond and Mithrandir have always been of the opinion that in some respects you will forever be an elfling. I believe they are correct, and I am glad. For it is not the childishness that you have preserved but the childlikeness: the ability to find wonder in the world. Middle-earth will always be a place of marvels as long as you dwell here."

Legolas smiled even more deeply, and Glorfindel laughed again. He clapped the younger Elf upon the shoulder and then arose. "We should break camp if we are to make Bree by nightfall."

Legolas picked up the plates and made for a nearby stream. As he knelt down to rinse the dishes, he hummed to himself. He felt grateful to his father for allowing him to make this visit to Eriador, however brief it had to be. He was especially happy that Glorfindel had decided to accompany him on his trek to the Shire. From Bree the two Elves would go to Buckland. There Glorfindel would remain on the east bank of the Baranduin whilst Legolas crossed into the Shire and made his way to Hobbiton. He had done so once before in order to pay a visit to Gandalf's friend Bilbo. Now Bilbo dwelt in Rivendell, and Gandalf had asked Legolas to check on Bilbo's nephew, Frodo, who had inherited Bilbo's house, Bag End, and all his property.

"You know the way, my lad," the wizard had said, "and as I am not as popular in the Shire as I used to be, I think it would be best if you would undertake this journey. I would go myself if I had no alternative, but you are far better than I at slipping in and out of places unobtrusively."

"Do you have a message for me to deliver to him?"

"No particular message, Laiqua. Simply check on his welfare. See how he is getting on. How is his health? Is he in good spirits?"

As always, Legolas was curious about Gandalf's fascination with the Shire in general and his interest in the Baggins family in particular. However, the Elf knew from long experience that the wizard would refuse to answer any questions on the subject. So he merely nodded and set about packing his kit. Whilst he was so occupied, he was joined by Glorfindel.

"Mithrandir tells me that you are journeying to the Shire."

"Yes. He wants me to pay a visit to Frodo, Bilbo's nephew."

"Ah, yes. Did he say why?"

"As usual, no."

"Curious," murmured Glorfindel. "Legolas, when Bilbo arrived here a little while ago, he looked far younger than his years, but then at once he began to age."

"Bilbo is a mortal. Why shouldn't he age?"

"Legolas, I was here when Mithrandir, Bilbo, and their Dwarf companions arrived on their outgoing journey, and I was here when less than a year later Mithrandir and Bilbo came back from Erebor. It was over fifty years later that Bilbo returned to take up residence here. He did not look one wit older than the day he first visited this place. I have met enough Periannath to know that this is not usual."

"There is something to what you say," Legolas said slowly. "When I last visited the Shire, it was when Bilbo still lived there. I did notice that he seemed remarkably youthful when compared with his age-mates. Perhaps during his journey to and fro Erebor he imbibed some potion that had a salutary effect upon his health. Ent draughts were said to have been very powerful. Perhaps he drank something of the sort."

"That is possible," conceded Glorfindel, "but why would the effects of the potion wear off when he left the Shire?"

"Are you suggesting that some quality of the Shire itself accounted for Bilbo's lack of aging when he dwelt in that place? Yet if so, why is its influence not felt by the other inhabitants of that land?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "I do not think it is a potion. Nor do I think it is something about the Shire itself."

"What then could it be?"

"I do not know, but whatever the cause, I suspect it is somehow tied up with Mithrandir's interest in that place."

Legolas laughed. "Why, Glorfindel, you are as curious as I about Mithrandir's doings."

"Yes, to the extent that they have bearing upon your well-being."

"_My_ well-being?"

"Legolas, haven't you noticed that Danger is Mithrandir's most frequent companion—followed hard on its heels by Death?"

"I won't be in Mithrandir's company, Glorfindel—and therefore will not be in the company of Danger and Death."

"If you are drawn into his business, then you will have no choice but to become acquainted with these friends of his. You know this to be true from your own experience."

Legolas had to admit that Glorfindel was right. Still, he tried to brush off his friend's concerns. "Glorfindel, even if I were to remain in the vicinity of Imladris, I might still encounter danger. These are perilous times, and grow even more perilous with the passage of every month. And at least I am journeying to the Shire and not to some more fearsome destination."

"True. Ne'ertheless, I mean to accompany you."

Legolas was torn between vexation at the fact that Glorfindel thought he needed a minder and delight at the prospect of being able to enjoy his friend and mentor's company for the space of time it would take to journey to the Shire and back. In the end, delight won out.

"I don't think you need trouble yourself, Glorfindel, but I shall be glad of your company."

Two weeks later, they were breaking camp in a copse not far from the Great East Road. They had ridden this far at a slow pace, the fall weather being so fine that they had no desire to hasten to their destination. Now they would leave their horses to graze until the return journey—elven horses can be trusted to look after themselves—and would go on to Bree on foot so as to attract less attention.

Near their campsite they hid most of their gear. "I hope the accommodations at the Prancing Pony will be as good as formerly," said Legolas, remembering back to the time that he had visited the inn in company with Aragorn.

"Mithrandir has been there recently and affirms that it is," observed Glorfindel. "Of course," the balrog-slayer added wryly, "since he has spent a considerable number of nights sleeping under hedgerows, he is easily satisfied as to accommodations."

Legolas smiled as he slung his lightened pack over his shoulder and stepped out into the road at the side of his friend. For several hours they had the highway to themselves. Then they came upon a small band of Men eating their noon meal at the side of the road. The Men hailed them and invited them to join their company. Smiling agreeably, Glorfindel and Legolas slung off their packs and sat cross-legged. They drew bread and cheese from their packs and offered to share them with the Men, who in exchange offered them cold meat and pickles.

"You elvish wights are on the road much more than formerly," said one of the Men as they ate. "Is it true that the Elves are leaving this land for good?"

"Some Elves are," Glorfindel said.

The Man glanced at their packs.

"You are not carrying much," he observed.

"We are, as you see, afoot. We carry only such items as are necessary."

"I always heard tell that Elves had treasure," said the Man. "Odd that none of the Elves we see passing through are burdened overmuch. Are they leaving their treasure behind?"

"I think you must be thinking of Dwarves," Legolas interjected. "Elves do not hoard treasure; Dwarves do."

"No, it was Elves I heard of," insisted the Man. "They keep gold in pots what can be found at the ends of rainbows."

Legolas struggled not to laugh, and Glorfindel stepped into the breach. "That is not a story about Elves," Glorfindel said mildly. "It is about another folk—an imaginary folk. They are supposed to be a little people who dress all in green and live in mounds. Should you stumble into their realm and partake of their food and drink, you will be trapped therein, and when you emerge you will have aged not a day, but all your kin will have died long since."

"Aye, I have heard such a story about little folk," said one of the Men. "And there was a pot of gold in it. Warn't nothing to do with Elves."

The first Man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. It is true, though, that none of the Elves who pass through Bree carry much in the way of goods."

The Man fell silent, and conversation passed on to other matters. From time to time, though, Legolas caught the Man staring at their packs, and the Elf felt uneasy. He was glad when the meal ended and they resumed their journey, although now in the company of the Men. "Cannot we trail behind and so be shut of them," he whispered to Glorfindel. "It would be better if we entered Bree in their company," the balrog-slayer replied softly. "'Twill distract attention from us."

Legolas fell silent. In any event, they would soon arrive at Bree and would go their own way. As night fell, they did indeed approach that village. Once past the gates, the Men went off to the house of a townsman. They invited the Elves to accompany them, but Glorfindel politely declined, saying that they had already bespoke a room at the Prancing Pony. This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Gandalf had assured the travelers that if they mentioned his name at this establishment, they would be accommodated.

Soon they stood before a building over whose door hung a sign with a pony painted upon it. Both light and song poured through its windows. Glorfindel and Legolas looked at each other and grinned. "Mithrandir has not led us astray," Legolas said cheerfully as Glorfindel laid his hand upon the door and pushed it open. Inside, a portly Man bustled up to them, one towel slung over his shoulder and another in his hands, which he wiped busily. "How may I serve you, masters?" he beamed. "Beer mayhap? We have stouts, ales, porters. Perhaps you would prefer a cider? We have both dry and sweet. Apple brandy, too. And we have perry! Also mead. We have all sorts: short mead and great mead, of course. And metheglen, or cyser, as some folk call it. And black mead and brackett and pyment and hypocras and sack and—"

"Wine, if you please," Glorfindel interrupted the recitation, smiling at the Man's earnest cheerfulness.

"Oh, wine, to be sure!" exclaimed the Man, who was none other than the proprietor, one Bartholomew Butterbur. "You be Fair Folk, and they do favor wine above all beverages. Hey, Barley," he called to a man of thirty or thereabouts. "That's my son Barliman," the proprietor said proudly to his guests. "He'll see you seated and served. Supper's still laid on, so you ask for anything you please."

"Thank you," said Glorfindel. "And after we have supped, we should like a room. Our friend Gandalf has said," he continued, using the name that the wizard went by in these parts, "that excellent accommodations are to be had in this establishment."

Butterbur beamed so brightly that for a moment Legolas thought his face might burst into flame. Then the Man looked troubled. "Oh, dear, I am forgetting. All the man-sized rooms are taken." Suddenly he cheered. "However, I do have a hobbit-sized room available for a price in keeping with its dimensions. The bed would be too short for you folks, but I could shift some furniture about so as to lay longer pallets upon the floor. You'd be comfortable enough I warrant. But mind you stand up carefully, for the ceiling is low at points!"

Glorfindel said that these accommodations would be agreeable, and Butterbur's son led them to a table, where they dined very well upon a meat pie that they washed down with red wine of a good vintage. Following this they each enjoyed a dish of a very fine custard, which for good measure was topped with a generous dollop of cream. "Oh, my," sighed Glorfindel as he pushed away his now empty dish. "I feel very unelflike at the moment. In fact, I feel as stout as a Troll!"

"Well," laughed Legolas, "you shall be living rough for several days on the banks of the Baranduin, so it is only right that you 'stock up', so to speak."

"Ah, yes, the Baranduin, or the Brandywine as they call it hereabouts. But I do not think I shall be 'living rough'. Mithrandir assures me that lately the fishing has been very good, so I have brought tackle in the pack that those Men found so unsubstantial. A fine mess of fish, dressed with mushrooms, that's the sort of thing I mean to dine on. You, on the other hand, shall have to resign yourself to potatoes at every meal. You do know that the potato is the staple of the Shire, don't you?"

"Yes, but I also know that the Hobbits are as creative as our Cook when it comes to preparing the tuber so that one may eat it day after day without tiring of it."

"Ah, the Cook," smiled Glorfindel. "I believe he once catechized you in all the different ways of preparing potatoes."

"Yes," Legolas smiled in return. "It was soon after my arrival at Rivendell. In Greenwood I was used to getting food from the kitchen rather than eating at table. When I tried to help myself to breakfast in Elrond's kitchen, however, the Cook drove me off."

"He was used to the depredations of Elrohir and Elladan," Glorfindel observed, "and thought you to be the same sort of miscreant."

"Yes, but I would not be discouraged. Again and again I tried to creep into the kitchen; again and again, waving the tools of his trade, he chased me out. Finally he caught me hiding in a basket of potatoes. 'I'll serve you like a potato,' he cried. 'I'll peel you! I'll roast you! Boil you! Dip you in oil and fry you! Aye, and mash you to boot!' Terrified, I fled out of the kitchen, past the garden, and through the gate. I didn't stop until I was deep in the woods."

"Where," Glorfindel continued the story, "you dined on leaves, berries, mushrooms, and nuts that looked like ones with which you were familiar."

"Only it turned out that plants in Imladris that look the same as ones in Mirkwood are anything but!"

"Elrond has told me of how you staggered back to the Hall in great distress—"

"And threw up my makeshift breakfast at his feet!"

The two friends laughed. Then they quieted as Butterbur's son drew near. "Your room is ready, masters," he said. The two arose and followed the young Man. As they left the Common Room, Legolas noticed that the Man who had spoken of treasure had arrived and sat in the corner with a group of rough looking Men.

Butterbur's son led them to a chamber on the ground floor. The Elves had to duck to enter through its round door, but once within they saw that they would be comfortable enough. The bedstead had been upended and its frame leaned against the wall, and in its place two thick pallets had been placed upon the floor. The pillows were generous, as were the quilts. Moreover, they were clean and in good repair, something that could not be said of the bedding in every inn. (Upon closer inspection, they also proved to be vermin-free, another quality not always to be found in hostel bedding.)

They slept well indeed, save for one incident during the night. Into Legolas's sleep came a small creaking sound. Instantly he was awake. He sat up and saw that the door was slightly ajar. "Who's there," he called. No one answered. He arose and went to the door and looked into the corridor. "Is anyone there?" Glorfindel said behind him. Legolas turned around and saw that his companion stood knife in hand. "No one," Legolas said. "Perhaps the wind blew the door ajar."

"It's a heavy door," Glorfindel said doubtfully, "and the window is closed."

Legolas closed the door and turned the key, a precaution they had not taken earlier. Then he lay back down upon his pallet. "The Man who was so interested in our packs, he was in the Common Room," he mused.

"Aye, I saw him."

"Do you suppose he was trying to get into the room just now?"

"He it the one who noticed that our packs were lightly laden," Glorfindel pointed out. "Why should he try to steal nearly empty packs?"

"Even a small quantity of gold would be valuable," Legolas replied. "We should be bearing a fortune on our backs even if our packs contained only a pittance. Indeed, it may be the very lightness of our packs that persuades the Man that we carry something valuable within. Besides," Legolas added, "it would be impossible to carry more than a few bars of gold. Even assuming that one could stand up under the weight, the straps would give way. Surely the Man would know this."

"So," said Glorfindel, smiling wryly, "the fact that we carry nothing of value is no protection against marauders who will assume that we do. You are right. We had better be more cautious."

The next morning they rose before dawn, meaning to slip away from Bree without their movements being observed. They dressed by the light of a candle and quietly entered the Common Room and roused the servant who dozed by the banked fire. "We would like to settle our account," Glorfindel told the boy. "Fetch your master, if you please."

A little while later a groggy Butterbur stumbled into the room. "Alas, masters," he lamented, "I did not know you meant to set out so early, else I would have told the Cook to arise and prepare breakfast for you."

"Do not fret, Master Butterbur. It will be enough if your servant fetches us some cold meat from the kitchen."

The boy was dispatched to fetch such cold foods as were available, and he returned with two large parcels wrapped in paper and well secured with twine. Legolas suspected that there was enough for several meals, and, indeed, his pack felt much heavier once his slipped his portion inside it. 'More valuable than gold', he thought with satisfaction. 'Gold you cannot eat!'

The sun was just rising as they returned to the road, and to the Elves' relief, there was no sign of any of the Men from the previous day. A groom mucking out the stable and a boy carrying a bucket of water were the only folk they saw. They kept to the highway until they were out of sight of the village, and then they turned north, making for Buckland. As the day grew warm, they stopped in the shade of an oak tree and broke fast. As Legolas had suspected, their parcels contained much more food than could be eaten at one sitting. "I think," Legolas laughed, "that you will not need to fish for your supper just yet!"

When the two travelers neared the bridge that Legolas would cross to enter the Shire, they were careful to get under cover. Gandalf was anxious that it not be known that an Elf was visiting Frodo. "Amongst the folk of Hobbiton—indeed, perhaps in the Shire as a whole—Frodo has gotten a reputation for being odd," Gandalf had explained to Legolas. "He is much talked of in the taverns and inns thereabouts. My visits are one reason for his reputation, but visits from an Elf will hardly improve matters. Therefore, my lad, be discrete."

By and by they found a likely campsite where they hid their packs before making their way to the bridge. Glorfindel was to distract the guards whilst Legolas slipped across. When they arrived at the bridge, however, they found the distraction would be unnecessary. Both the guards were asleep, their snores audible from the forest verge. Legolas was torn between amusement and alarm. "Mithrandir is not going to like this," he observed to Glorfindel. "He has always wanted the Shire to be well watched."

"As it is," came a familiar voice.

"Halbarad!" exclaimed Legolas, a little embarrassed that neither he nor Glorfindel had realized that _they_ were being watched.

"The same," said the laconic Ranger, breaking cover. "You breathe so loudly," he added, "I could have shot you in the dark."

Legolas grinned at the mock insult, which Halbarad knew full well was one that novices flung at one other. "Why, Halbarad," he retorted, "I have never known you to be so full of witticisms."

Glorfindel made a show of sighing. "Younglings," he grumbled. Then he, too, smiled. "I am glad I shall have someone to share my camp with while young Legolas here is off enjoying Hobbit hospitality."

Halbarad shook his head. "No, now you are here, I shall move on. We are few and spread thin. We do our best to safeguard the Shire, but I am afraid that a determined enemy would not find it difficult to slip past us. Tell Gandalf that."

The Elves promised that they would, and Halbarad vanished back into the forest. As for Legolas, he strode past the sleeping guards, who did not even twitch as he passed, and made for a copse on the far side of the river. Within a few minutes, he, too, had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2: The Watcher Watched

**Thanks to the following reviewers:**_** Joee1, Lady Ambreanna, Foxgurl0000, RumorUnderOath, vectis, leralonde, and CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**The set up for the crisis in this story is taking longer than I thought, so it will consist of three chapters rather the two I stated at the outset.**

**Beta reader: None. I take my chances on the shorter stories and only inflict the longer ones on Dragonfly.**

**Chapter 2: The Watcher Watched**

The last time Legolas had visited the Shire, he had had no difficulty in traversing the miles between Buckland and Hobbiton, and his experience this time was no different. He slipped from copse to copse, keeping hedges and haystacks and outbuildings between himself and occupied houses. He gave taverns a wide berth, and froze like a cony, crouched low to the ground, when revelers stumbled by on their way home. In this fashion, on the dawn of his second day after crossing the Brandywine Legolas reached Bag End without incident. As Gandalf had instructed him, he did not go up to the front door but slipped round to the side, where bushes provided cover. He was just about to tap on a window pane when he heard footsteps and the creak of a wheelbarrow. He ducked down and sat upon his haunches as a gardener came around the corner. 'This must be Samwise Gamgee', Legolas said to himself. Gandalf had regaled the Rivendell Elves with stories about this personage, who had what both Men and Hobbits called a 'green thumb'.

Samwise rolled the wheelbarrow to the edge of a potato patch. Taking a shovel from the bed of the barrow, he began to dig up the tubers. As Legolas patiently waited, the gardener tossed root after root into the wheelbarrow, and the Elf was impressed at the number of potatoes that could be harvested from such a tiny patch of garden. 'Mithrandir did not lie!' he said to himself. 'Master Samwise is indeed an estimable gardener'.

At last Samwise seemed satisfied with his harvest. He tossed his shovel atop the pile of roots and picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow. Before he could take a step, however, lighthearted shouts were heard, and two younger Hobbits tumbled into the garden, one of them performing cartwheels, the other handstands. "Hey!" Master Samwise shouted indignantly. "Don't you be disturbing the plants! You are a rascal, Master Peregrin. And you, Master Meriadoc, you are a scalawag!"

Legolas grinned at hearing the terms 'rascal' and 'scalawag' applied to someone other than himself. Suddenly, the window above his head opened. "Pippin! Merry! Are you tormenting Sam?" called a voice.

The smaller of the two—the rascal—performed a final cartwheel and landed on his feet facing the window. "Cousin Frodo," he laughed, "we have long since planted roots in this garden."

Sam picked up his shovel and brandished it. "That what has been planted can be uprooted, I hope you know," he said darkly.

"There will be no uprooting of Hobbits," laughed Frodo. He was leaning out the window and Legolas risked a glance upward just as the Hobbit looked down. He saw startled blue eyes in a face topped by a mass of brown curls. 'I am a friend of Gandalf's', Legolas mouthed. The Hobbit looked back at his friends. "Sam, you have done enough for one day. After you have put those potatoes in the root cellar, get yourself home to your Gaffer. Oh, and be sure to take some of those potatoes with you. There will be more than I can eat, I am sure."

"Why, thankee, Master Frodo," Sam said. "My Gaffer was just saying as he wanted bangers and mash, and I was trying to explain to him that we had just finished last year's taters." Tossing the shovel into the wheelbarrow once again, Sam hoisted the handles and trundled around the corner. That left Pippin and Merry to be decoyed away from Bag End. "Pippin, Merry, you should know that Freddie Bolger and Folco Boffin stopped by a little while ago. They were on the way to The Green Dragon and hoped you'd join them."

"Won't you come, cousin?" asked Merry.

"No, I have some letters to answer. But drink a few for me!"

Frodo tossed a coin out the window, which Merry and Pippin pounced upon with a cheer. After several minutes of scuffling, Merry emerged gleefully holding aloft the coin. Then the two young Hobbits scampered from the garden, their shouts gradually fading into the distance.

"Now then, Master Elf," Frodo said, "if you will come round to the front, I will let you in."

Looking about to see that he was unobserved, Legolas slipped from his hiding place and hastened to the front, where he found the door held ajar by Frodo. Quickly Legolas crossed the threshold, and just as quickly Frodo closed and locked the door behind him. The two grinned at each other, having become co-conspirators even before introductions, which now commenced.

"I'm Frodo Baggins," said Frodo, "but I suppose you already know that."

"Yes, Master Baggins."

"Just Frodo, if you please. And who might you be?"

"Legolas Thranduilion."

"Legolas son of Thranduil, eh? My uncle Bilbo was acquainted with your father after a fashion—you must understand that it was a while before they were formally introduced!"

The Elf laughed. "I have heard the story. I am sorry that at first your uncle was denied the hospitality of the Great Hall."

"Hospitality could hardly have been offered, as none of your folk knew that Bilbo was there. Speaking of Bilbo, can you tell me any news of him?"

"I am afraid I cannot," Legolas replied regretfully. It is true that Legolas knew that Bilbo was safe in Rivendell, but Gandalf had asked him to tell no one, not even Frodo. "If Frodo doesn't know where his uncle is," Gandalf said, "then he can't tell anyone else, and then nobody can tell somebody else."

"You think Frodo would betray his own uncle?"

"No! no! no! You weren't listening carefully! I merely fear that Frodo would let slip the news to Sam or some other trusted Hobbit, who in all innocence would convey the news to someone _he_ trusted, and on and on, until word of Bilbo reached the ears of someone _not_ to be trusted. So I say again: Frodo can't tell what Frodo doesn't know. Not only will Bilbo be kept safe in this fashion, but Frodo, too."

"Safe from what, that's what I'd like to know," Legolas murmured.

"Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards," Gandalf said sharply.

Legolas resisted the impulse to point out that he had been mixed up in the affairs of wizards for several centuries.

Frodo must have been thinking something along the same lines, for he gave Legolas a look only a little less shrewd than the one Gandalf might have given. However, for the moment he forbore questioning Legolas further—at least on the subject of Bilbo. Instead, he turned the conversation toward another subject altogether.

"I was about to eat supper. Will you join me?"

"Most assuredly."

Frodo led the way into the kitchen, where his supper was already laid out. Bustling about with an enthusiasm to match Master Butterbur's, he had soon set a place for Legolas that matched his own, the only difference being that he poured Legolas a glass of wine rater than a mug of beer. "You are well acquainted with the ways of Elves," Legolas observed as he picked up the glass and sipped from it. "You understood that 'Thranduilion' meant 'son of Thranduil', and you knew that I would prefer wine to beer."

"Bilbo taught me well," Frodo said. "Pity," he added disingenuously, "that you cannot tell me any news of him."

"Yes, but you may console yourself that I do not have ill news to convey. I might have said that he was in danger or that he was unhappy or that his health was poor. But I do not tell you any of these things."

"That is right. No ill news."

"No ill news," Legolas repeated. The two shared a smile.

"Well," said Frodo, "as we cannot speak of Bilbo, let us talk of Gandalf. How is the old codger?"

"He has got another arrow hole in his hat."

"Hah! It is a wonder that he has got any hat left."

"Oh, from time to time he has it mended. Actually, I think that all of the original cloth has gradually been replaced."

"Very likely. I think one could say the same of his robe and his cloak." The two shared another smile.

Lighthearted as their conversation had been, Legolas had not forgotten to carefully observe his companion. It was not long before the realized that the peculiarities he had once observed in Bilbo were likewise possessed by Bilbo's nephew. Like Bilbo, Frodo could not seem to leave off nervously checking his pockets, seemingly in search of something. He would reassure himself that this hidden object was safe and sit quietly for a time. Then he would commence checking his pockets all over again. Apparently no matter how often he checked, he could never remain satisfied that the object was secure.

'He has got something tiny but valuable in his pocket', Legolas thought to himself. 'Perhaps it is gold, for a golden object may be small yet valuable'. Legolas thought again of the Man who had stared suspiciously at the Elves' packs, and he felt sympathy for the Hobbit. 'However', he said to himself, 'if I were made so uneasy by a possession, I should part with it. Frodo is no fool and would do likewise—unless he cherishes the object for some reason beyond its monetary value. Poor fellow. He has an attachment to something and cannot rid himself of it even though possessing it makes him unhappy'.

A second peculiarity was the Hobbit's appearance. Here, too, Frodo had something in common with Bilbo. When Legolas had first met him, Bilbo had been a healthy Hobbit in full possession of all his faculties. In fact, Bilbo had been notably haler than almost all Hobbits of the same age. As Glorfindel had pointed out, the Perian had maintained his health and youthful appearance until arriving at Rivendell, at which point he suddenly began to decline until his appearance was very nearly in keeping with his age.

Frodo, too, seemed young for his years. 'He looks like a Hobbit in his early thirties', Legolas thought to himself, 'but he must be nigh onto fifty. Well, he inherited from Bilbo Bag End and all its conveyances. Seemingly youthfulness must have been one of them!'

At length it grew late, and Legolas could see that Frodo was stifling yawns. With seeming casualness, Legolas began to speak of how far he had walked that day. "Why, where are my manners," Frodo exclaimed. "You must have been wishing to retire these past few hours." Again the two shared a smile.

Frodo led Legolas to the same room he had slept in when he had visited Bilbo many years before. The room and its furniture had grown no larger in the interim. Still, Legolas was glad to able to stretch out, even though his feet, as before, hung over the edge of the bed when his legs were fully extended. In the kitchen, his legs had been pressed against his chest as he had perched on his Hobbit-sized chair, so he thought that being able to stretch out his legs was a fair exchange for the minor nuisance of not being able to draw his feet under the quilt. Legolas chuckled as he remembered the conversation he had had with Bilbo over the sleeping accommodations. "That bed is a little longer than the beds in the other rooms," the Hobbit had told him. "Gandalf stays in here when he visits. He complains that the bed is still too short for his frame, but I tell him he ought to be more flexible about things. 'Can't you bend?' I ask him. 'Doesn't do to be too rigid!'"

Smiling at the thought of a grumbling Gandalf lying rigid in a Hobbit bed, Legolas fell asleep. In the morning, he discovered that, unlike Gandalf, he had proved flexible, for he woke up lying on his side, his legs curled up within his quilted cocoon. Having slept well, he cheerfully joined his host for breakfast.

The next several days passed pleasantly, with good conversation and good food. Legolas was disappointed in only one respect: as Sam spent a considerable amount of time in the garden, the Elf was unable enjoy the flowers and trees during the daytime. He would have loved to examine in the sunlight those floral gems that he spied whenever he peeked cautiously out the window, and he envied Sam, who knelt lovingly before each plant as he tended it.

While Legolas was dining with Frodo and envying Sam, Glorfindel was passing his time fishing from the bank of the Baranduin. Gandalf had been right about the fishing. The river teemed not only with trout, perch, and pike, but also grayling, bream, dace, and chub. Glorfindel ate a different fish at each meal. Then, too, he varied the preparation of his catch. Sometimes he spitted the fish and grilled it over the fire. Other times he steamed his catch. He would line the bottom of a shallow trench with coals and atop the coals would place wet leaves. His catch he would wrap in wet leaves as well before placing it in the trench. He would place more wet leaves on top of this bundle and then another layer of coals before sealing the trench with dirt. When it came time to uncover the bundle, the flesh within would be moist and flaky, well flavored with whatever herb he had chosen that day. Oh, and the mushrooms! One must not forget the mushrooms (although he had to be careful in gathering them, for the best spots were much frequented by Hobbits).

Glorfindel's enjoyment would have been complete save for one niggling detail: he was certain that someone else was in the forest with him. Each day the feeling grew stronger. Could it be a Hobbit, he wondered. If so, it was a Hobbit with more woodcraft than most, for try as he might, Glorfindel never spotted him. Could Halbarad have come back? But if he had, why didn't the Ranger show himself? Then Glorfindel came across footprints in the damp soil next to a spring, and he was certain whoever was in the wood was neither a Hobbit nor Halbarad. The prints were of heavy boots, and even if the Hobbits had worn boots, they were much too large for a Halfling. As for the Rangers, they were shod in lighter footgear, and no Ranger would be so foolish as to leave behind prints. A Man then, but not a Ranger. Nor a friend, neither. The Elves were at peace with the Men thereabouts, so the Man ought to have shown himself. An enemy, then, and one who was watching the bridge into the Shire. Well, the Shire would not be entered by this bridge as long as he, Glorfindel, Twice-born Balrog-slayer, stood watch! The Elf began to time his rest carefully so that he would be awake when the Hobbit guards dozed off. Likewise, he gave up fishing in his favorite spot so that he would never be far from the bridge.

Two days after Glorfindel found the footprints, Legolas was taking his leave of Frodo. "You cannot stay longer?" Frodo said wistfully. As long as the Elf was there, he felt a connection with both Bilbo and Gandalf.

"I think, my friend, that your cousins are going to become suspicious soon. You are running out of excuses to keep them from the house."

"True. Well, you will remain this one day, I hope. Then you shall be able to have a fine supper before you are off."

Legolas smiled. "You are trying to fatten me up so that I am incapable of stirring," he teased.

"It would take a great deal of food to do that," Frodo retorted. "You Elves are too skinny."

Frodo began to bustle about the kitchen. He prepared food for supper, careful to cook such stuff as would keep so that he might pack a parcel for Legolas to eat on the way. He prepared a second parcel for Glorfindel, for Legolas had told him that his friend waited for him on the far side of the Brandywine. 'Glorfindel shall be glad of that parcel', the Elf said to himself, 'for he must be tired of fish'. At the moment, of course, Glorfindel did not care one whit what he dined upon, so long as he should succeed in safeguarding the Shire.

That night, after the moon had set, Legolas bade farewell to Frodo and slipped out the door. Keeping a hedge between himself and the road, he set out toward the east.

"Hah," said Merry from his post in a tree overlooking Frodo's house. (It was, in fact, the Party Tree.) "You see, Pippin. I told you Frodo has been behaving strangely."

"More strangely than usual, you mean," Pippin replied. "What do you think has been going on?"

"I suspect," Merry said shrewdly, "that it has something to do with whatever it is that Frodo possesses that allows him to disappear whenever the Sackville-Bagginses come to call. Come on. Let's go pump Sam for more information."

With that, Frodo's cousins climbed down from the tree. Legolas, meanwhile, innocent of the fact that he had been observed, continued on his way.


	3. Chapter 3: Golden Revelation

**Thanks to the following reviewers:**_** Lady Ambreanna, RumorUnderOath, vectis, Elfinabottle, JastElf, leralonde, and CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**Really, there will be only one chapter after this one. Honest.**

**Elvish phrases in this chapter are adapted or borrowed outright from these three web pages: **_**Blades of Anarion: Elvish Phrases**_**; **_**The Phrase Guide of Tel'Quessir: Elven Phrases**_**; and **_**Lothlórien of the Elves: Sindarin Phrases**_**. I am not going to provide the URLs because I have tried that in the past and the software has stripped out the addresses. If you would like the URLs, e-mail me and I will send them to you.**

**Beta reader: None. I take my chances on the shorter stories and only inflict the longer ones on Dragonfly. Currently, she is the beta reader for Parallel Quest.**

**Chapter 3: Golden Revelation**

Waiting for the Hobbit guards to doze off, Legolas crouched behind a tree on the far shore of the Brandywine. The Halflings were sitting at the edge of the bank, dangling their legs in the water and puffing on their long-stemmed pipes. Legolas smiled, for the sight made him think fondly of not only Frodo but also of Bilbo, Gandalf, and Aragorn. He could see the three of them sitting on a terrace in Imladris, Bilbo exclaiming over the smoke creatures that the Hobbit never tired of watching and Gandalf never tired of creating, Aragorn letting his tired muscles relax as he watched the other two, his long legs stretched out as he enjoyed an-all-too-brief respite from his labors. Legolas frowned. Yes, all too brief. Aragorn came less and less often to Rivendell, and his visits grew shorter and shorter. The Elf knew that Aragorn and Arwen considered themselves betrothed, but he also knew that Elrond had set conditions that had to be fulfilled before any marriage could take place. Elrond would not part with his daughter to anyone less than the King of the combined kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor. Aragorn worked ceaselessly to lay the grounds for the restoration of Eregion, the Kingdom of the West—reconnoitering the edges of Sauron's domain, cultivating friendships amongst Men of both Rohan and Gondor, skirmishing with Orcs in the Misty Mountains—but Legolas did not see how the task could be achieved during the Ranger's lifetime. Aragorn was a Dúnadan, gifted with a life longer than that of an ordinary Man; even so, the obstacles were so many and so great that Legolas wondered if his friend and foster-brother would succeed in overcoming them. Aragorn would have to forge an alliance between wary folk of many races, an alliance powerful enough to face down legions of Orcs and thousands of Southrons and Easterlings. When Legolas had expressed his fears to Gandalf, however, the wizard had shrugged them off.

"My lad, you must not doubt Estel. Hope may come from sources unexpected."

"Mithrandir, since the heyday of the Last Alliance, the Dúnedain and the Elves have dwindled and Men, while growing in number, have become divided, suspicious of one another and reluctant to join forces save under great duress. Meanwhile, Sauron has invested Barad-dûr and grows more and more powerful, strengthening his defenses, breeding Orcs, and forging alliances with renegade Men."

"Yet he can never be what he once was without the One Ring," Gandalf muttered to himself.

"Mithrandir!"

"Oh, yes. Sorry, my lad. You were saying?"

"How is Aragorn to regain what is rightfully his in the face of such obstacles!?"

"Remove the obstacles."

"I am trying to point out the difficulties of doing so," Legolas said dryly.

"I have given considerable thought to how it should be done, Laiqua," Gandalf replied insouciantly, "so do not trouble yourself excessively over the matter." It was then that the wizard had broached the idea that Legolas should journey to the Shire, and one reason Legolas had agreed to do so was because he suspected that Gandalf's interest in that place was somehow tied up with Aragorn's fate. 'He will not say why', the Elf said to himself, 'but both Mithrandir and the Dúnedain look to secure its safety. Aragorn himself often patrols its borders. Somehow, the Shire and its inhabitants have an importance all out of proportion to their size!'

As Legolas meditated upon this mystery, two of the small but (seemingly) significant inhabitants of the Shire finished smoking their pipes and stretched themselves out in the shade of the forest verge. Legolas grinned. He would not have to wait much longer. Patiently he listened as their high-pitched voices carried across the river, gossiping and singing snatches of doggerel. Gradually their voices grew softer and their exchanges less frequent. Finally the Hobbits fell silent. 'I think they must be asleep', the Elf said to himself. Just then, in confirmation Glorfindel stepped out from the forest and beckoned to him. Legolas laughed to himself. 'So, while I have been observing the Hobbits, Glorfindel has been observing _me_'. He arose from his 'hiding place' and walked softly across the bridge.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," Glorfindel said as the younger Elf approached. "I am very glad you have returned, for it seems that the Shire is being watched by eyes other than my own."

"The Hobbit guards, of course, and Halbarad."

"Aye, but someone else as well. A Man who has kept himself hidden from me. I found his tracks, and they were not those of a Ranger."

"An enemy, perhaps."

"I fear so. We should remain here until Halbarad or one of his kinsmen return."

Legolas nodded and then drew the parcel of food from his pack. "Let us eat and then take turns watching."

The two Elves sat behind some bushes that were sufficient to hide them but through whose branches they could catch sight of the bridge. Legolas untied the string securing the parcel. "You have eaten well enough," Glorfindel said dryly as he saw the various breads within, as well as the generous slabs of cheese and the strips of dried and corned meats.

"And you have not? Did the river lack fish?"

"Oh, there are fish enough in that river, but once I realized that a foe lurked nearby, I had little opportunity to cast my line."

After they had supped, Glorfindel wrapped himself in his cloak and slept while Legolas kept watch. For a while the woods were silent. Then he heard a branch swish—and there was no breeze. Shortly after he heard the sound of a twig rolling underfoot—and it was from the opposite side from which he had heard the branch swish.

"Glorfindel," he whispered, "wake up, but do not move."

"I am awake," Glorfindel whispered back.

"There is more than one Man in the forest."

Glorfindel tensed as he listened carefully.

"Several Men," he said softly. "They are all about us. I hear their whispering."

"Aye, they are talking softly—but not softly enough!" Legolas slowly reached for his bow.

"No, Legolas. We may not slay these Men outright. Mark their accents. They are Breelanders, and we are at peace with those folk."

"Then why do they lurk in the forest and not show themselves?"

"They may be asking the same question about us. We must wait until we can be sure of their motives."

Slowly Glorfindel sat up. As he did so, several Men armed with knives and staves broke cover. One of the Men was the traveler who had been curious about the Elves' packs. "So," he gloated, "we finally catch you two together in the same place." He strode to Legolas's pack and rummaged through it. Finding nothing that he valued, he tossed it aside and searched Glorfindel's pack. Angrily, he threw it aside when he realized that it, too, contained no treasure. "Where is it?" he demanded. "Where have you hidden your gold?"

"We have hidden no gold," Glorfindel replied calmly.

"You were seen digging a hole," the Man said accusingly.

"That is true," said Glorfindel, "and I will gladly show it to you. You will find that it contains no treasure—unless you count embers as a treasure. It is a pit in which I steamed fish."

"Then you have hidden it elsewhere." The Man pointed at Legolas. "Your son slipped away. Mayhap he hid the treasure."

Legolas opened his mouth to explain that he was not Glorfindel's son, but he caught his friend's slight shake of the head and remained silent. The Man noticed that he had been on the verge of speaking. "Oh ho!" he crowed. "He knows something."

"No," averred Glorfindel. "He knows nothing of this treasure that you seek. Of that I will swear. Moreover, I promise that I will bring you gold."

"We will hold him as hostage,' the Man said, pointing to Legolas.

"Of course," said Glorfindel."

"We will bind you until dawn," said the Man, "for we do not want you playing any tricks in the nighttime. Then in the morning you may leave to fetch the treasure."

"Very well. If you release me at dawn, I shall return in the evening with gold."

The Men took away Legolas and Glorfindel's weapons and led them deeper into the forest. Once they reached the humans' campsite, the Breelanders bound the Elves both hand and foot. Leaving their captives lying at the foot of a tree, the Men built a fire and devoured the food that still remained in Frodo's parcel. While they were preoccupied, Legolas took the opportunity to speak to Glorfindel. "Why did you stop me from telling those Men that I am not your son?" he whispered.

"They are sure to believe that a son would make a better hostage than a friend," Glorfindel whispered back, "for Men put great stock in loyalty between blood kin. Thinking me to be your father, they were the likelier to release me."

"And once they release you, you will fetch help," Legolas said confidently.

Glorfindel surprised him by saying that he would not. "No," he explained, "help is too distant—unless Halbarad be near, and we cannot be sure of that."

"So you mean to take them on all by yourself?" Legolas asked somewhat less confidently.

"No," said Glorfindel, amusement in his voice. "I said I would bring them gold, and I will."

Legolas was bewildered. Where would Glorfindel find gold? Before he could ask any further questions, however, he was distracted by the raucous laughter of the Men. The humans had carried flasks of spirits in their packs. Having consumed the alcohol, they were beginning to talk and act wildly. One of them picked up Glorfindel's bow. Fitting an arrow to it, he tried to shoot an apple that dangled from a nearby branch. He missed by more than a foot, and his fellows roared with laughter. Another Man seized Legolas's bow. He picked up a windfall apple, tossed it on high, and shot at it as it arced through the air. He, too, missed, his missile tumbling down to pierce the ground in front of a bush.

The bows were passed from hand to hand, and arrows were shot wildly, not a one of them finding its target. Suddenly one of the Men came over to where the Elves lay and yanked Legolas to his feet. Dragging the hobbled Elf to a tree, he leaned his captive against the trunk. Then he bent down and picked up an apple. Grinning, he balanced the apple on Legolas's head. "Do you remember the story," he shouted, "about the archer what shoots an apple off the head of a boy?" His words were met with whoops and cheers.

Glorfindel struggled to make himself heard over the racket.

"I have heard that story," he cried. "The archer is the boy's father. He is forced to shoot the apple by a powerful Man whom he has defied."

"A powerful Man," crowed the leader of the band. The drunken human swaggered over to Glorfindel. Drawing his knife, he cut the Elf's bonds. "Get up," he ordered. "You Elves fancy yourself archers. Well, then, _you_ shoot the apple off your son's head!" The Man thrust Glorfindel's bow into the Elf's hands.

Legolas and Glorfindel both hid their smiles. "Please," Glorfindel begged in the most piteous voice that he could muster. "Please do not force me to do this." His plea was met with laughter.

Now Legolas made himself sound frightened. "Adar," he cried, "lle naa curucuar!" _Father, you are a skillful archer!_

Glorfindel choked to disguise his laugher. "Sunc ylf ernediaid," he called to Legolas. _He has had too many cups to drink._

Still trying to sound piteous, Legolas addressed his next words to the Man. "Garich i dhôl goll o Orch!" he cried. _You have the hollow head of an Orc!_

Uncomprehendingly, the Men laughed all the more.

Fixing a frightened look upon his face, Legolas stood very still, the apple balanced upon his head. Also looking distressed, Glorfindel slowly drew back the string of his bow. Then he paused, looking appealingly at the Men clustered eagerly about.

"Go on! Go on!" they shouted.

Sighing, his hands seeming to shake, Glorfindel again drew back the string. "Avo 'osto!" he called to Legolas. _Fear not! _At the last moment, the balrog-slayer made a show of squeezing his eyes shut as he released the arrow.

Glorfindel heard a satisfying 'thwock' and opened his eyes to see the arrow driven deep into the trunk of the tree a fraction of an inch above Legolas's head. At the young Elf's feet lay the apple, split neatly in two.

Glorfindel and Legolas locked eyes for a moment, and then the two Elves simultaneously pretended to faint.

"A lucky shot," shouted the Men as they dragged the seemingly unconscious Elves back to their spot beneath the tree. Unfortunately, at least one of the humans was sober enough to realize that they ought to tie Glorfindel up again. 'Ah, well', Glorfindel said to himself, 'I shall merely have to stick to my original plan'.

The next morning the Men were sluggish and bleary-eyed as they released Glorfindel. Legolas they did not untie, and the leader of the Men held a knife to the younger Elf's neck. "You'd best be back by dark," he warned Glorfindel, "and with gold, too."

Glorfindel picked up his pack and upended it, so that his belongings fell upon the ground. "I have emptied this pack," he declared. "When I return, it will be heavily laden, and you shall see gold glistening within it." With that, he strode off into the forest. Behind him, Legolas wondered greatly what Glorfindel had in mind. Nevertheless, the younger Elf did not doubt but that his friend would somehow rescue him from his captors.

The sun was near setting, and the Men had begun to grumble and cast ominous glances toward Legolas, when Glorfindel returned. His hood up, he came from the west, and his shoulders were bent under the weight of his pack. He stopped at the edge of the encampment and shrugged off the pack. He dropped it, and it landed upon the earth with a thud. Glorfindel flung back the flap that covered the opening of the pack. The Men were looking into the sun and were dazzled by its light, but they still saw a golden glint from the opened pack. Glorfindel stepped aside as the Men huzzahed and rushed toward it. In their eagerness, the humans did not notice that the Elf slipped swiftly toward the camp fire, where he seized a knife. Then Glorfindel quickly slashed the rope binding Legolas's ankles and pushed the younger Elf into the forest. Pausing only long enough to seize their bows and quivers, he followed swiftly after. The two Elves had just gotten under cover when angry shouts arose from the Men clustered about Glorfindel's pack. Crouching low, Glorfindel and Legolas quietly made their way further into the forest. Although Legolas's wrists were still bound, such was his balance that he never stumbled as they maneuvered silently through the thickets. Still, he was glad when Glorfindel deemed that it was safe to pause long enough to free his hands and take stock of their situation.

"We have our bows," said Glorfindel, "and our quivers. Although," he grimaced, "there are not many arrows left! They took the coins from my pouch but left me my whetstone and my flint and steel."

"I also have whetstone and flint and steel."

Glorfindel nodded. "We have no water skins," he continued, "but there are streams and springs enough. They stole our knives, but I have got one of theirs. The workmanship is not as good, but it will do. We have lost our blankets, but that is of little matter, for we are Elves. Even if we weren't, the nights are still mild; and if we encounter heavy rains, we can use the knife to cut boughs to fashion into simple shelters. It seems that we may lack certain comforts and conveniences, but we possess the essentials. Surely if we are careful with our arrows, we can bring down game that will provide us with enough sustenance to fuel our return to Imladris."

"Even if we had lost all our arrows," Legolas pointed out, "we should have been able to make some in the ancient manner, tipping them with stone. Indeed, we should have been able to fashion stone knives as well."

"Yes, and we should have been able to make fire with a fire drill," smiled Glorfindel. "However, the old ways take time, and I should like to get home before the Midwinter Festival! Well, let us move on. We are probably safe from pursuit, but it would be prudent to put a little more distance between ourselves and our hosts."

"Wait, Glorfindel. I should very much like to know how you acquired enough gold to fill a pack!"

"Oh, I didn't. I filled it with rocks. They are easy enough to find along the river bank."

"But Glorfindel," protested Legolas, "I saw the glint of gold in your pack."

Glorfindel still had his hood up, and now he pushed it back. Legolas gaped. The balrog-slayer's long, carefully plaited golden braids had vanished. Legolas could see that they had been crudely hacked off close to the scalp. "You are right about stone knives," Glorfindel grinned. "They are very serviceable, even when quickly prepared with a few blows from a hammer stone."

Legolas recovered his voice. "So you coiled your braids atop the rocks in your pack," he marveled.

"Aye, and relied upon the westering sun to deceive the Men long enough for us to slip away."

Legolas smiled. "I have lost my hair repeatedly over the centuries, but I have never known you to lose _yours_!"

"I am gratified to have done so," Glorfindel said with mock-gravity, "for it is good for father and son to have experiences in common. It strengthens the bond between the two."

Legolas began to laugh, but Glorfindel suddenly shushed him. "We have been discovered," he murmured. Legolas froze, and through an opening in the trees two Men stepped into view.


	4. Chapter 4: You Are With Me Always

**Thanks to the following reviewers:**_** Lady Ambreanna, vectis, Elfinabottle, FoxGurl0000, Damatris, leralonde, and CAH**_**. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**By the way, on an earlier occasion Glorfindel had lost his hair. The incident is described in Chapter 13 of Things Fall Apart. And in the chapter previous to that one, the prim and stodgy Erestor lost **_**his**_**!**

**This is in fact the final chapter of this story.**

**Beta reader: None. I take my chances on the shorter stories and only inflict the longer ones on **_**Dragonfly**_**. Currently, she is the beta reader for Parallel Quest.**

**Chapter 4: You Are With Me Always**

The two Men advanced upon the Elves. Without hesitation, Legolas leaped up and closed with them.

"Mae govannen, Halbarad," he cried joyfully. "Mae govannen, Aragorn."

The young Elf clapped Aragorn on his shoulder, and the Man returned the gesture, smiling. Halbarad, meanwhile, had been looking Glorfindel up and down. "I like what you've done with your hair," the Man smirked.

Glorfindel gave him a look that would have slain a balrog. Halbarad was uncowed, however, and continued scrutinizing the Elf. "Besides losing your hair, you have lost your packs," he observed.

"Aye, and our water skins, our blankets, our money, our knives, and many of our arrows," Glorfindel replied.

"When we came across your tracks," Aragorn said, "they were accompanied by those of Men, but it seems the Men turned back. Were those the Men who robbed you of your possessions?"

"Yes," Glorfindel said. "They threatened Legolas," he added slyly.

At once both Halbarad and Aragorn abandoned all jocularity. "Who were they?" demanded Aragorn. "Southrons? Easterlings?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "Sad to say, they were Breelanders. They were possessed by the silly notion that we were lugging gold about the countryside."

"Breelanders?" said Aragorn. "Then it won't do to punish them too severely, for we must avoid alienating their tribe. A time may come when it is needful for us to call upon the good will of the Men hereabouts—such as it is!"

Legolas knew that Aragorn and the other Rangers were viewed with suspicious by many of the Breelanders, but he understood the Dúnadan's desire to avoid any action that would strengthen the villagers' prejudices to the point at which he could no longer go among them.

"Aragorn is right that we must tread carefully with regard to these folk," said Halbarad. "Still, they must be taught that it is a grave mistake to molest a traveler—especially an elven one! The Fair Folk who journey to the Grey Havens are in need of safe passage."

The four friends paused to eat a little—Legolas and Glorfindel had had nothing to eat since their capture—and then the small company set their plan in motion. After abandoning their pursuit of the Elves, the Breelanders had returned to their camp. There they had consumed the spirits that remained in their flasks, wrapped themselves in their blankets, and cast themselves upon the ground. The Men set no watch, and they allowed the fire to burn low. Taking advantage of the Breelanders' carelessness, the four friends slipped silently into the camp. Glorfindel retrieved the Elves' knives whilst Legolas gathered up as many unbroken arrows as he could find. Halbarad and Aragorn gathered up the Breelanders' staves and knives. Then, bows at the ready, knives loosened in sheaths, they began to shout and ululate. Confused and terrified, the Men struggled free of their blankets and staggered to their feet to find themselves confronted by four grim-faced warriors. As his friends covered the Men with their weapons, Legolas bound each Man's hands behind his back. Next Glorfindel ordered the Breelanders to stand in a line, the leader last of all. Then Glorfindel addressed them.

"You said it was a lucky shot when I split the apple that you placed upon my son's head. Let us prove whether that is true."

Legolas gathered together several apples and placed one upon the head of each man. Then Glorfindel took up position before the first Man, who trembled so hard that the apple tumbled from his head. "If you do not stand still," Glorfindel warned, "you are going to get hurt no matter how good my aim."

Legolas replaced the apple, and the Man stood as still as he could but squeezed his eyes shut. A wet patch appeared at the crotch of his leggings. Glorfindel wanted to grin but forced himself to keep a fierce expression upon his face. He held his bow loosely until the last moment. Then, hardly seeming to aim, he suddenly raised it, drew back the string, and released his arrow. The apple split and fell at the Man's feet. The Breelander staggered and then fell to his knees, gasping in relief. Ignoring him, Glorfindel moved to stand before the second Man, who soon had pants as wet as his fellow's.

In this fashion Glorfindel moved down the line of Men, leaving behind him a trail of split apples and wet bottoms. At last he came to stand before the leader of the band, whose face was pale and drawn. Legolas had heard it said that a Man could be so frightened that 'his knees knocked together', but he had never witnessed the phenomenon. Now, as Glorfindel fitted an arrow to his bow and aimed, Legolas saw it illustrated. Not surprisingly, the apple rolled from the head of the trembling Man. Legolas went to replace it. As he did, he smelled a foul odor and saw that the seat of the Man's leggings, which had been blue, was now stained brown. Still holding the apple, he turned to Glorfindel. "I think you have made your point."

"Have I?" said Glorfindel. He addressed the quaking Man. "Was it a lucky shot?"

Incapable of speech, the Man merely shook his head.

"You should know," Glorfindel continued, "that this Elf shares my skill. You are familiar with the expression 'The apple does not fall far from the tree'?"

Numbly, the Man nodded.

"Good."

Glorfindel signaled to Legolas. Using his recovered knife, the younger Elf swiftly cut the Men's bonds. They began to back away toward the cover of the forest. "Wait!" commanded Glorfindel. "I would not have it said that Elves are thieves. Take your possessions—only be sure to leave ours."

Fumbling through their packs, the Men drew out anything that was not theirs. Soon they had piled up the Elves' blankets, their packs, their money pouches, their water skins, their cookware—even Glorfindel's fishing line. Then Legolas returned to them their knives and staves—there was no fear that they would be tempted to wield them!

"You may go now," said Glorfindel. "But remember this! If you should trouble any of our kinsmen, we shall return. Our aim will be as sure—but we will not be aiming at apples!"

The Men edged away and then turned and fled. For several moments they could be heard crashing through the brush. When the racket died away, Halbarad went to the nearly dead fire and nursed it back to life. Legolas and Aragorn, meanwhile, took the water skins and went to the river to refill them. As they walked, Aragorn questioned Legolas about his errand. "You visited Bilbo's nephew, I hear tell," Aragorn said. "How does he fare?"

"He is healthy and seems fairly happy."

"Only 'fairly'?"

"He possesses something that troubles him. I never caught sight of it, but it was small enough for him to hide it in his pocket. He kept it with him always."

"Gandalf will be distressed to hear that his friend is not happier. Yet he is healthy, you say."

"Remarkably so. He looks much younger than his years."

"Gandalf will not like _that_," Aragorn murmured.

Legolas was perplexed. Mithrandir would be unhappy to learn that his friend was troubled, but he would also be unhappy to learn that his friend was healthy!

"Aragorn," he said, "there is some great mystery surrounds the Shire. Mithrandir will not tell me what it is, but he has told _you_. I suppose I should be offended, but I reckon he has his reasons."

"I think Gandalf will soon explain matters to you," Aragorn said. "When he does, you may wish he had left you in the dark!" he added dryly.

They had reached the edge of the river, and Aragorn frowned when he saw that the Hobbit guards were sleeping.

"The Shire will prove no refuge," he said, more to himself than Legolas. He sighed. "Of course, even were the Halflings awake, what could they do against the forces that may seek out this place? The bridge wardens are posted here not to turn back fearsome foes but to prevent Shire younglings from stealing into the woods to gather Buckland mushrooms and to likewise prevent Buckland younglings from crossing the bridge to raid Shire potato patches."

As Aragorn ruminated, Legolas knelt by the river filling the water skins and thinking upon the mystery. Something small. Something valuable. Something malignant, perhaps, for it troubled Frodo. Something the Hobbit may have inherited from Bilbo. "Aragorn," the Elf exclaimed abruptly, "I have heard Bilbo tell a story of how he was lost beneath the Misty Mountains and he found a—"

"Hush!" commanded Aragorn. "Do not utter the word. Gandalf is not certain of the nature of this thing. He needs more time, more information."

"Do you suppose I have learned anything that will be of use to him?"

Aragorn shrugged. "You observed Frodo carefully for a fortnight. You may have seen something that has escaped Gandalf. That is why he sent you, because he thought you might ferret out some information that he had overlooked because of his familiarity with Frodo. When we are familiar with a scene, we may cease to see it in all its details."

The water skins having been filled, the two friends returned to the campsite, where they found Glorfindel explaining to Halbarad why he had cut off his hair. The Ranger's face broke into an unaccustomed smile.

"Glorfindel—that means 'golden-haired' or 'gold-tress', does it not?"

"Yes," said the balrog-slayer, likewise smiling.

"You were aptly named, then—although I am certain your parents had no idea what use you would make of the treasure that they bequeathed you!"

The usually dour Halbarad joined in the laughter of Aragorn and the two Elves. Then Legolas, Glorfindel, and Aragorn rolled up in their blankets whilst Halbarad took the first watch. They did not fear that the Breelanders would return, but the incident had impressed upon them the fact that evil could creep into places that had once been refuges against it. Moreover, at least two of the company—Aragorn and Legolas—were aware that something uncanny was hidden within the Shire. Whether Glorfindel and Halbarad had been entrusted with the secret, Legolas could not guess; and he knew better than to ask, for Aragorn had made it plain that the matter was not to be discussed.

'Glorfindel and Halbarad are both elders, and thus accustomed to giving counsel', Legolas said to himself, 'but they are both so loyal to their lords that they would follow their behests without question. If Aragorn asked Halbarad to guard the Shire, he would do so without asking why; likewise, if Elrond asked a favor of Glorfindel, he would grant it even if Elrond gave no reason'.

Legolas had always assumed that Glorfindel had accompanied him with Elrond's blessing, but now he began to suspect that it had perhaps also been at his urging.

'Elrond is deep within the counsels of Mithrandir, and he would suspect that my errand to the Shire might be fraught with more peril than I should have guessed. He would have told Glorfindel so'.

Legolas was in fact right in surmising that Elrond had told Glorfindel of his fears, but Glorfindel should have guessed at them anyway. For it was no secret to anyone in Elrond's household that Gandalf had an inordinate interest in the Shire; and it was also no secret that the wizard's constant companions were Danger and Death, as Glorfindel had told Legolas at the outset.

"I do not bring danger to the Shire," Gandalf had said to Elrond one day when the elf-lord had asked the wizard whether he wasn't drawing too much attention to that place. "It was carried there by the most innocent of Hobbits."

"Whom you sent on a quest," Elrond pointed out. "Had he not gone—"

"Elrond," interrupted Gandalf, "in the end evil would have found that place. No land is immune. No folk are immune. No, not even the Elves."

This Elrond could not deny, and he let the matter drop. But he kept careful watch over all those who had dealings with Gandalf, and Legolas above all.

"I shall lose Estel," the lord of Imladris had observed to Glorfindel a few days before Legolas and Glorfindel departed on their journey to the Shire. "That cannot be helped, for he is mortal. The only question is whether he dies prematurely or lives out his allotted years."

"You have always known this," Glorfindel pointed out, "and yet you did not hesitate to welcome him into your household and love him as a son."

"True," Elrond conceded. "Estel is my foster-son, and I cannot help but hope that he will live to an old age and accomplish the two things that he desires above all else. Now here is the hard part," he continued. "One of his desires we share—that he should destroy the Enemy and restore the realm of Men. The achievement of his second desire shall follow from the accomplishment of the first. For I have sworn that I will not gainsay him if he claims the hand of Arwen in his person as the King of the combined realms of Gondor and Arnor. So," he concluded, "I shall lose Estel no matter what ensues, and I shall lose Arwen as well if Estel succeeds in destroying the Enemy that threatens us all."

The sound of song and laughter drifted in at the window. Elrond walked to the casement and looked out. Legolas was passing by in the company of Elrohir and Elladan, and all three young Elves were merry, as if they had never been in battle, had never slain either Orc or Man.

"The Doom of Men does not lie on Elrohir or Elladan," said Glorfindel. "Not unless they should choose it."

"Yet I may lose them in the war that shall come to pass whether or not Mithrandir finds what he seeks," Elrond replied. "Legolas, too, is in peril. Glorfindel, Legolas is as much my son as the other three, and I am certain that he will be drawn into Mithrandir's machinations. I beg of you: look out for him."

"I will guard him as if he were my own," Glorfindel promised.

"Which in some respects he is," Elrond said, smiling a little.

Glorfindel had kept his promise, and now he slept serenely, relieved at having been able to fulfill Elrond's behest. He remained so until he was roused by Aragorn, who had succeeded Halbarad as sentry. Glorfindel watched until it was nearly dawn. When he awoke Legolas, the younger Elf looked at the fading stars and made a wry face. "Glorfindel, you have watched longer than you ought," he protested.

"It seemed an appropriate morning to let you lie abed."

"Indeed? May I inquire as to the occasion?"

Glorfindel smirked. "Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his son?" he teased.

"The loss of your braids has made you lightheaded," Legolas teased back.

"Then you have been lightheaded for a considerable portion of your life!" Glorfindel shot back, grinning.

"No need for you to stand sentry, Legolas," a voice grumbled, "as the unbearable lightness of your being has woken the rest of us." Aragorn sat up and sent a mock glare in the direction of the two Elves. Halbarad sat up as well, but he had seemingly recovered his taciturn ways during the night, for he said nothing at all but merely arose to replenish the fire.

While they broke fast, the four friends discussed whether Legolas and Glorfindel ought to return by way of Bree or whether they ought to bypass that settlement. Glorfindel was all for giving the village a wide berth.

"If we come to the town," Glorfindel said, "those Men may summon their friends and kinsmen, and then we might be forced to defend ourselves against rascals emboldened by numbers. In the course of any skirmish, some folk are certain to be harmed, even though it is not our wish to do injury to any Man. Afterward, any Elves passing through are sure to be viewed with great suspicion."

"Men will be suspicious of any Elves they encounter regardless of what you do," Aragorn pointed out. "The roads grow dangerous, and Men are fearful of all strangers, regardless of race."

"Will we help matters by going back by Bree?" Legolas asked.

"Probably not," Aragorn conceded. "Folk who wish to think badly of Elves will do so no matter what account you give of yourself."

"Then by all means let us avoid the place! We can do no good by going there; on the other hand, we could worsen matters."

"Very well," said Aragorn. "For myself, before I resume tracking a creature Gandalf seeks, I will go into Bree so that I may gather news from those folk who do not make a point of being fastidious about the company they keep. The stable boys, for example, are generous purveyors of gossip who ask little in return save a bowl of pipe weed or a tankard of ale."

"You do not fear being accosted by those Men?"

Aragorn shook his head. "I think I can slip into Bree without drawing notice—more notice than usual, anyway. Both Halbarad and I kept our hoods up, and it was dark. Besides," the Ranger added dryly, "I am sure you noticed that the Men's eyes were fixed upon Glorfindel's bow."

It was settled, then. Glorfindel and Legolas would skirt Breeland. Aragorn would set out in their company but would part with them upon reaching the border of that little land. As for Halbarad, for the time being he would remain in Buckland in order to keep watch upon the bridge.

"I may not remain long, however," he told his comrades, "for I have received word that strangers have been seen near our encampments in the north. Whilst we guard the Shire, our womenfolk and children are protected only by a few boys and agéd men. I must return and determine whether the strangers represent a threat."

"I wonder," said Aragorn after he and the Elves had departed their camp, "whether these strangers Halbarad speaks of have been sent by the Enemy to draw the Rangers away from the Shire and so leave it open to attack."

"I shouldn't be surprised," Glorfindel said grimly. "Whatever Mithrandir intends to do, he had better act quickly."

A few days later, the trio of friends gazed upon the light shining from the window of a farmstead at the edge of Breeland. "Farewell, Aragorn," said Legolas, addressing the Dúnadan by the name he had reclaimed upon reaching manhood.

"Stay well, Legolas," replied the Man, addressing the Elf by a name that he, too, had reclaimed.

The two looked at each other regretfully, each momentarily missing those youthful days when they went about in each other's company and got into such scrapes as sent Elrond's eyebrows skittering up and down and side to side.

"Stop moping like elflings," Glorfindel commanded with laughter in his voice. "I am sure the day will come when you will once more journey together—aye, and when you will get into as least as much trouble as formerly!"

Aragorn gave a brief smile and then turned and headed toward Bree. Glorfindel and Legolas watched him until he had disappeared into a copse, and then they, too, resumed their journey.

Three months later, Gandalf paced back and forth in Legolas's room in Thranduil's Great Hall. "I don't like it," he exclaimed. "Your news, Legolas, combined with what I have learned from the creature and in the library of Minas Tirith, makes it all but certain. I must leave for the Shire at once to perform a test upon this thing that will remove any final doubt."

The wizard turned to Aragorn, who sat by the fire rubbing salve upon gouges on his arm that looked very much like teeth marks. "Aragorn, I thank you again for tracking Gollum. Mind you don't let those bites get infected! How soon can you return to Bree?"

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged wry glances at the abrupt manner by which the wizard had delivered himself of his wishes for Aragorn's wellbeing.

"I can return to Bree upon the instant," Aragorn replied.

"Then do it," said Gandalf brusquely. He turned again to Legolas.

"Remember, Legolas, that Gollum must be well guarded."

"It will be done," Legolas assured him. "My father has given orders that your wishes be fulfilled."

"Good. Now then, Legolas, do not grow too comfortable here in Mirkwood. I shall have need of you in Rivendell ere long."

"But I have just come from that place, Mithrandir. My father will be loath to allow me to return after spending so little time by his side."

"Little time, aye, little time. That is the problem, Legolas. Time! It is too brief for what we must accomplish!"

Gandalf picked up his staff and strode to the door. When he reached it, he paused momentarily and looked back. "Remember, Legolas, I shall have need of you. Your father will let you go when he understands the urgency of my errand."

Legolas shook his head doubtfully after Gandalf had departed. "Aragorn, I cannot think of anything that would persuade my father that I must return to Rivendell."

The Ranger shrugged. "I cannot think of anything, either, but I am certain that a reason shall arise. When have we known Gandalf to be mistaken?" He pulled his sleeve down over his injured arm, wincing only a little as he did so. Then he rose to his feet and hoisted his pack with his undamaged arm. "Fare well, Legolas," he said. "Although," he added, "if Gandalf is right, we shall see each other again shortly!"

Aragorn was in fact correct in surmising that before too long Legolas would have reason to return to Rivendell. To the Mirkwood Elves, Gollum appeared so broken and pitiful that the Elves did not think him a threat. Yet in some unknown fashion, Gollum was able to communicate with the servants of Sauron. Swarming out of the forest one day, these evil creatures fell upon Gollum's guard and slew the most of them. When the skirmish was over, Gollum had escaped, and it fell upon Legolas to carry the ill news to Imladris. The young Elf arrived at Rivendell just in time to participate in the Council of Elrond, where Gandalf revealed the significance of the ring whose existence Legolas had already guessed at.

"Mithrandir did not seem much distressed at the news that Gollum had escaped," Legolas observed to Glorfindel the day after the Council, when it became known that Legolas himself would be one of the Fellowship that would encounter Frodo, Bilbo's heir and the bearer of the One Ring. "He seemed to imply that Gollum may play a useful role in events to come."

"Yes," agreed Glorfindel noncommittally, careful to hide his sorrow and fear. 'Mithrandir must already think that Gollum has played a useful role', he said to himself, 'for his escape has brought Legolas here. Had Legolas not arrived in time for the Council, he would have been spared this Quest, and I might have taken his place in the Fellowship as the representative of the Elves. I promised to protect Legolas, but now he will be out of reach of my protection'.

"Glorfindel?" said Legolas, wondering at the balrog-slayer's silence.

Glorfindel turned toward Legolas and placed a hand on each shoulder. He gazed steadily at the younger Elf. "Legolas, I beseech you to remember all I have taught you."

"I should find it impossible to forget," Legolas said wryly, "for you have drilled me often enough. In the matter of weapons training, you were no less exacting than Erestor on the subject of geography! Indeed, your words and example are so embedded in my mind that throughout this journey I shall feel as if you were standing by my side."

The balrog-slayer's bitterness began to ease at hearing Legolas speak these words. Legolas had his skill with the bow, his skill with the blade. He moved with his grace and his speed. Elrond had often pointed out that in his moves Legolas captured Glorfindel's mannerisms. 'It is indeed true', Glorfindel said gratefully to himself, 'that the apple does not fall far from the tree'. Smiling now, he released Legolas's shoulders.

"I am surprised', he jested, 'that you did not say that I am in your nightmares.'

"Oh, that too," Legolas retorted with a grin. "You are with me always." Then the two sobered, standing quietly for several minutes. Glorfindel finally broke the silence. "Stay well, my son," he said softly.

Now it was Legolas's turn to put his hands on Glorfindel's shoulders. "Avo 'osto, Adar-nín," he said gently. _Fear not, my father._

Legolas squeezed Glorfindel's shoulders before releasing him. "I would speak more with you," he said regretfully, "but Mithrandir has summoned me. He wishes to ask me what I observed of conditions in the Misty Mountains as I made the crossing from Lothlórien."

After Legolas departed the chamber, Glorfindel went to the window and looked out to where the Hobbit Bilbo sat upon a bench enjoying the autumn sun. After a little while, Frodo came to join him, and Glorfindel smiled as he saw the two greet each other affectionately. "It is hard that Bilbo and Frodo must be parted so soon after they have been reunited," said a voice behind Glorfindel's shoulder. Glorfindel shook his head in mock exasperation as Elrond came to stand beside him. "I suppose," the balrog-slayer grumbled, "that you will now apply that observation to my situation. Really, Elrond, if I were in need of sententiousness, I should seek out Erestor!"

"I don't intend to apply that observation to your situation because it is obvious that you have already done so yourself—as I have applied it to my own."

Glorfindel glanced briefly at Elrond and then looked out the window again. "Elrond," he said, only half-jokingly, "if anything happens to Legolas I shall have Mithrandir's head."

"I believe," said Elrond, "that if anything happens to Legolas, it will not be necessary to part Mithrandir's head from his body. Our wizard friend does not ask Legolas to confront any dangers that he will not confront himself."

"That is true," Glorfindel conceded.

"It is also true," Elrond continued, "that Mithrandir loves Legolas and would forfeit his own life if by doing so he could protect Legolas from harm."

Glorfindel suddenly had a vision of an enormous creature wreathed in shadow and flame. He rubbed at his eyes. The vision vanished.

"Glorfindel?"

The twice-born balrog-slayer regained his voice. "I know, Elrond," he said softly. "I know."


End file.
